I work. Days without anything to fill them aren’t comforting. They cause dread. They stretch on and on and on. Vacuous, empty. A wasteland that can fill with sharp-tongued thoughts and a sense of guilt and failure.
It’s that time of the year again. Christmas music is playing in all the stores; the scent of pine hangs in the air; people are starting to rush home with their treasures. (Okay, maybe that’s just me. I’m an early bird Christmas shopper.)